


listened

by ryuuzaou



Category: No. 6 - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Marriage Proposal, Reunions, i can't believe nezushi cured my writers block, very light angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 15:50:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11854782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryuuzaou/pseuds/ryuuzaou
Summary: When he had first realized that Hamlet had stayed with him rather than Nezumi, his first thought was that it was Nezumi’s way of being there with him, that he would listen and reply through his little robot. So Shion talked to Hamlet as if he were talking to Nezumi himself. But Nezumi never replied.or; Nezumi returns, and they make a new promise.





	listened

**Author's Note:**

> i rewatched/reread this a few days ago & when i saw that in the anime hamlet stays with shion i was like "ohohoho. i can work with this. i can definitely work with this"

“‘Promise kiss,’ my ass,” grumbles Shion one day to the mouse scampering around on his desk. “But that wasn't a goodbye kiss. I feel like I’d have known if it was a goodbye kiss, but knowing him…”

He’s doing some paperwork in his office, high in the Moondrop. Usually, he doesn’t let Hamlet off his person, but yesterday he’d had to lead a press conference and is absolutely exhausted as a result. It went over the status of the new economic system that had finally been fully implemented in what was formerly Kronos. Citizens of Kronos didn’t use money the way Lost Town or West District did, because they never needed to. Anything they wanted was provided for them. Many of the children are adjusting fine, but some adults are growing increasingly frustrated.

“Maybe if we find volunteers from Lost Town or West District, people who have always been familiar with money can help out those who need it?” Shion says aloud, tapping his stylus against the tablet.

Hamlet looks up at him from where he’d been nibbling on a stray pen. He chirps.

Shion sighs. When he had first realized that Hamlet had stayed with him rather than Nezumi, his first thought was that it was Nezumi’s way of being there with him, that he would listen and reply through his little robot. So Shion talked to Hamlet as if he were talking to Nezumi himself. But Nezumi never replied. Hamlet never acted in a way to suggest being controlled by Nezumi.

Months passed, and still, Shion talked. Hamlet listened. Nezumi listened.

A year passed. Shion talked. Hamlet listened. Did Nezumi?

Another year. Shion talked. Hamlet listened. Nezumi, Shion eventually comes to terms with, did not.

Old habits die hard, though, and Shion still talks to Hamlet, three years after the day of Elyurias’ Punishment (as the citizens have taken to calling it). It doesn’t matter whether or not Nezumi is listening. It doesn’t matter whether or not Nezumi is keeping tabs on him. It doesn't matter. Shion doesn't regret anything he’s done for No. 6, in the past three years or before. He’d make the same decisions again, Nezumi or no.

(Perhaps one day Shion will truly believe that.)

Hamlet’s tiny paws patter across his tablet screen. Shion frowns, ready to reprimand him, when he notices that one of Hamlet’s paws is tapping against the ‘Save and Exit’ option. This is probably just more of his antics. Hamlet is one of the smartest mice Nezumi had, and had picked up on how to do a few things. Included in those few things is mimicking the actions Shion always takes right before he takes a break, which Hamlet seems to want him to do now.

So Shion finishes up his paragraph and nudges Hamlet aside so he can tap the button. The program closes. Hamlet isn’t done on his tablet, it seems, evidenced by his tapping at the icon for a different application.

“The security monitors? Hamlet, those are only active in times of a crisis, and it’s not a crisis. There’s nothing to see.”

Hamlet stands on his back legs and hops up and down on the icon. At the little bot’s insistence, Shion gives in and opens the app. Hamlet guides him through the menus of camera locations, each bearing a red title to show deactivation. Shion is about to turn the tablet off and figure out what’s wrong with his mouse when he sees one title in green.

“That’s not right,” Shion mutters, more to himself this time. “The panel of trustees hasn’t deemed anything a crisis in months! These cameras deactivate a week after the crisis is resol—what the hell?”

When the camera feed loads, Shion doesn’t quite understand what he’s seeing. That… that can’t _possibly_ be Nezumi. Absolutely not. The man with the long dark hair, superfiber scarf, graceful limbs, unforgettable silver eyes… that’s someone else. Not Nezumi. Not Nezumi. Please, _please_ , don’t be Nezumi.

The man that can’t be Nezumi is reclined on the park bench that the camera has a view of. His legs are crossed at the ankles, arms behind his head. He’s staring directly at the camera with a smirk on his lips that’s so, so familiar. Shion wants to cry.

He doesn’t. Instead, he takes a deep breath, lets it out with a slow exhale. Then he pulls up the proper screen to speak through the camera’s speaker.

“Excuse me, sir, on the bench? If you’re homeless, there are multiple places that offer beds and warm meals throughout the city. There’s one directly west of the park you’re in. Spend as much time there as you wish, I just wanted to let you know. Oh, also, this camera is active for some reason, which I’m about to fix. I’m very sorry for the intrusion of your privacy. Have a great—”

The camera doesn’t have audio, but he doesn’t need it. Shion has watched Nezumi’s lips form his name enough times to read them when they move to form it now. His smirk has faded. Carefully, Nezumi—no, no, not Nezumi—mouths the words, _“I’m waiting.”_

“ _You’re_ waiting?” Shion bursts out louder than he’d meant to. The man on the screen winces a little, his cheek twitching. That son of a bitch really is listening with Hamlet. “I’m on my way.”

It takes about fifteen minutes to reach the park, so Shion arrives about half an hour after the interaction with the man on the bench. He needed to make sure all the cameras were off and secure, and that everyone at the Moondrop was okay with him leaving for the day. He never left without saying goodbye to the staff that helped build New No. 6. He will never stop being grateful to them. They helped bring hundreds of people together, bring hundreds of people to a place they could feel safe calling home.

Shion’s home hasn’t been a place in years. Not since the day he’d admitted aloud that he was drawn to Nezumi, and he realized in that instant that _Nezumi is my home._ Home, he has always believed, is where you feel safest, where you long to return to after a hard day, where you wish to be when you don’t want to be where you are, where your heart feels warmest and beats steadiest. That day, it came to him that Nezumi was all of those things. When the wall was destroyed and his home left to wander, it has never come back. It’s not his new condo he’d gotten to be closer to the Moondrop. It’s not his mother’s bakery, with her new girlfriend and her lovely daughter Lily. It’s not the underground room in West District. It’s Nezumi, it’s always been Nezumi, who left and took home with him.

Now he’s back.

Shion leaps from his car the moment it’s parked.

Now he’s back.

Shion’s feet pound against the sidewalk, the grass, the pavement of a game court.

He’s back, he’s back, he’s back.

Shion stops.

He’s about thirty feet from the bench. There sits Nezumi, in the same position as he was in on the screen. Shion looks up at where the camera is on the streetlight, then back to Nezumi, who’s got that awful smirk on his face again.

“Nezumi,” Shion says.

“Shion,” Nezumi says, and _oh,_ how Shion has yearned to hear that voice speak his name, to hear that voice at all.

There’s no one in the park. It’s not very popular, considering it has few walking paths and no playground, so it’s the by far the most likely place in the area for Nezumi to be.

“Did you hack the camera?” Shion asks, because he doesn’t know where else to start.

Nezumi pulls what looks to be a remote out of his pocket and tosses it in the air, catches it.

“Bastard!” Shion storms up to the bench and plants his hands on either side of Nezumi, caging him. “Those cameras are for crises _only._ What if I hadn’t been the one checking the camera feeds?”

“I knew you were.”

“You activated it, and you probably didn’t even think about deactivating it, did you? All your hacks are for getting in, because by the time someone notices what’s going on, you’re already gone. You did what you came to do, you think. You don’t need to worry about the consequences of your actions. You underestimate your targets and assume that they don’t know what you plan to do, what you’ve already done, which leads you to believe that they’ll never be able to touch you! You’re a selfish piece of shit, Nezumi. You always have been!”

Nezumi opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again. He pauses to think. “You’re not talking about the camera,” he ends up saying.

“No,” Shion agrees, “I suppose I’m not.”

They stare at each other in silence. Shion doesn’t know if he wants to kiss or strangle Nezumi. He’s leaning toward strangle, especially when he remembers: “Hamlet stayed with me when you left. Did you hear everything I said to him? Did you see what he saw?”

The silence is enough of an answer. Shion sighs, withdrawing from where he leans over Nezumi. At least, he tries to. Nezumi grabs his wrist before he can get far. “I missed you, too.” His voice is soft. “I wanted to talk to you. I swear, I never forgot you. I thought of you every day for the past three years. I listened to you talk, to me, then to Hamlet, then to yourself. I listened to every word. I lost a job thanks to that day last March when you sang to that little girl; I was too distracted. I have always been with you, Shion.”

“No, you haven’t,” Shion snaps, but he doesn’t take back his wrist. “Hamlet has. You left.”

“I left No. 6. I didn’t leave _you._ ”

“Yes, you did! You did leave me! You left me here in the rubbles and chaos of Elyurias’ Punishment! You left me to do this all alone!” Distraught, Shion slumps over Nezumi, bowing his head. “You left me to do this all alone,” he repeats.

“I understand, I—”

“No! You don’t understand! You have _no idea_ how hard this was! You only had to take care of yourself. I had to take care of thousands of people, hundreds of whom hated each other! I haven’t had a full night’s sleep in years! I’ve been so, so alone, Nezumi. How could you?”

A hand reaches up and cups Shion’s face, a thumb brushing under his eye. Shion brings up his hand to place it over Nezumi’s, who turns his to interlock their fingers with the back of his hand against Shion’s cheek.

“I’m sorry, Shion,” Nezumi murmurs, “but I’m here now. You don’t need to cry anymore.”

“I’m not crying.” Shion wipes the tears from his other cheek. “You just smell so bad it’s making my eyes water.”

This makes Nezumi blink, then laugh. When he settles down, he meets Shion’s gaze intensely. “Marry me.”

Shion is almost certain he didn’t hear that right. For a second, it seemed like Nezumi asked to marry him, but Nezumi would never do that. Even if he wanted to, he’d be too stubborn and proud to admit his feelings in such an obvious way.

“What happened to ‘The one who has something to protect always loses?’” Shion asks, rather than voicing his thoughts.

“I figured out that when I was with you, I only ever won. When I was away, I only ever lost. Statistics suggest that I’m more likely to win when I’m with you.”

“Oh, so statistics told you to come back? Math is going to be the reason why you propose to me?”

“No, I proposed to you because I realized too late that I was in love with you, and I took a few detours getting back to find a wedding ring from beyond No. 6.”

This catches Shion completely by surprise. Three years ago, Nezumi would never have said this out loud, especially not at this proximity. It’s assurance that they’ve both changed, they’ve both grown. Nezumi lowers Shion’s hand from his face, shifts their hands so Shion’s rests atop Nezumi’s palm. He slips his other hand into the pocket of his coat and retrieves a slim gold ring, inlaid with rubies.

“Of course I’ll marry you, you idiot.” This time, Shion is a little more willing to admit that he cries. “Rubies are one of the rarest gems left… You always used to go above and beyond for me,” he recalls fondly, gazing in wonder at the ring.

“And I’ll never stop.” Nezumi tucks the ring back into his pocket as he rises up to kiss Shion.

He’s promptly pressed down again against the arm of the bench. Shion climbs up onto the bench so he has a knee on either side of Nezumi’s thighs, his hands desperately fluttering about Nezumi’s face, his hair, his neck, his arms, as if making sure that Nezumi is truly here. He leans over the man below him, taking advantage of all the things that they hadn’t been able to do the last two times: sincerity, time, and most of all, mutual love.

When they pause for air, Shion rests his forehead against Nezumi’s. “That,” he breathes, smiling a little, “was a promise kiss.”


End file.
